


You're Mine (yes, I'm yours)

by Oriki-Miitad (Sneaking_UnicornWitch)



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, POV Alternating, Praise Kink, Soft Wars saucy fanfic, Topping from the Bottom, Wolffe Topping From The Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28738152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneaking_UnicornWitch/pseuds/Oriki-Miitad
Summary: Hardcase is not a patient man, but Wolffe has told him to hold steady and he will, even as it takes everything in him not to pull Wolffe closer and lose himself.Hardcase and Wolffe, a night in on Concord Dawn.
Relationships: Hardcase/CC-3636 | Wolffe
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49
Collections: Open Source Soft Wars





	You're Mine (yes, I'm yours)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is one that I wrote as a potential for my part of the Soft Wars Fic Exchange, but instead I've polished it a bit more and am posting it now. 
> 
> Set once they're settled on Concord Dawn, written in the sandbox of the lovely Projie's Soft Wars.

Hardcase is pushed down on the bed, hands stretched out to clasp the headboard firm. No ropes hold him in place, neither of them liking the constriction, but Wolffe’s orders keep them there just as well. Better, maybe. He’s whining as he breathes, little gaspy moans, hips bucking into nothing as he watches the show in front of him. Quiet wet noises and Wolffe’s flushed cheeks are some of the only signs anything is going on, and it’s torture.

Wolffe, kneeling straddling Hardcase’s legs, is scissoring himself open on his own fingers. One of his arms is pressing Hardcase’s chest down onto the bed, the other disappears from Hardcase’s view. A twist at the shoulder punches out a moan and Wolffe sags for just a moment.

Hardcase is not a patient man, but Wolffe has told him to hold steady and he will, even as it takes everything in him not to pull Wolffe closer and lose himself.

He knows when Wolffe begins to slip into something more than simply preparing himself, when his eyes flutter and his hips stutter, the movement of the top of his arm quickening with it. A longer drawn out whine brings Wolffe’s attention to him.

*

His Shouty Shit is laid out under him, flushed and hard and aching. Time has mellowed out all his energy, managing only whines and moans and begging pleas. Tattoos spread from his lips, cover his torso, looking radiant in the dimming light. Wolffe has been soothing him down all afternoon, and it’s now the time to make him soar. Wolffe grunts as he pushes his fingers in one last time, pulling at the pucker to make sure he’s ready enough.

“You gonna make me feel good, Cas’ika? Show me what a good boy you can be?”

Hardcase only nods, his arm muscles pump in time with Wolffe’s thrusts into himself like he’s imagining they’re his fingers. But he’s still clinging to his orders and the bedframe. His firework is being so well-behaved.

Wolffe knows he needs praise like it’s oxygen, does Hardcase, needs it like he’s a drowning man, and for all he knows that it was Rex’ika who made him bloom under his command in the 501st, in the here and now it’s  _ Wolffe’s _ praise he looks for. That sort of thing can go to a  _ vod _ ’s head. 

It’s not gainly, nor sexy, the way he scooches up the bed so his knees are level with Hardcase’s waist, but he’s not self conscious enough to mind, and Hardcase is too out of it to care. His lubed up fingers find his boyfriend’s cock behind him and he slicks it up before holding it still. The hiss Hardcase makes as he thumbs across the head is a treat, so he does it again. 

As he rises up and begins to sink down on Hardcase’s cock he moans low, a rumbling sound that he knows his boyfriend loves. His head tips back as he relaxes his muscles, lets himself be filled so completely with Hardcase. He stops only once he’s there’s no space between them, breathes as he gets used to the feeling again. 

Hardcase has kept himself still for so long, far longer than he’d been expecting. Wolffe had stripped him first, laid him down naked on the bed before he’d taken off even a single piece of his own clothing, and he’s been hard the whole time. Now though, he’s beginning to forget himself, straining to move up into Wolffe. A little reminder needed, perhaps. Of what’s at stake.

He tsks, runs a few fingers down Hardcase’s flushed pecs and pulls at a nipple. “Be good for me, Cas’ika,” he rumbles, “just keep being good for me.”

*

Hardcase thumps his head back down onto the pillow. He knows Wolffe wants him to stay at rest, but the feeling of Wolffe engulfing his cock, the sight of his boyfriend towering above him, all power and might and control, is messing with him. 

All he wants to do is let go of the bedframe, grab Wolffe’s hips, flip them, and grind his boyfriend into the mattress until all he can say is Hardcase’s name. 

He could do it. Has done it. But he won’t do it. That won’t make him good for Wolffe.

Finally,  _ finally _ , Wolffe begins to move. He almost pulls off entirely before he’s taking Hardcase’s cock again, and the slick pull-drag-slide is just as amazing as ever. A moan escapes, and he chances a small buck up into the heat. Wolffe gives him a little snarl, and he quietens.

Hardcase wriggles a little, not up, nothing that’ll make Wolffe disappointed, but the next time Wolffe rides down on his cock Hardcase can tell he’s hitting his prostate.

“You’re doing so well for me, letting me take what I need.”

Wolffe’s keeping it slow and it’s driving him mad, enough sensation to keep him in the game, but not enough to do anything other than add to the heat deep in his belly and the tightness in his chest. 

Eventually, he starts to babble, to beg.

“Please, please, Wolffe. Please- lemme touch you. I’ve been good, so good. Gotta touch you, please Sir-. ”

After a few more rises and falls, more of his begging, Wolffe gives in. Hardcase can see it happen just before he says anything, the way his eyelids flutter and he brings his hands to his own hips as muscles clench around his cock. 

“Okay Cas’ika, come on. Show me how good you can make me feel,” he drawls.

*

Wolffe is pulled off-balance as Hardcase brings his feet up, his knees supporting Wolffe’s back. The white-knuckle grip on the headboard loosens and Wolffe grabs his hands, pressing a kiss to the back of each before they settle on his sides. With the new position Hardcase can push up into him hard, and he’s taken along for the ride as Hardcase easily pulls him up off his cock by the waist before rocking his hips into him. Again. Again.  _ Again _ .

Every drag pushes on his prostate, and when Hardcase moves a hand to rake short nails down his chest he can’t help letting out another loud moan.

_ Ah Ah Ah _ is all he gets from Hardcase, almost too gone for words. They’re both close now, have been worked up for so long. He wraps a hand round his neglected cock, hand a blur as he jerks off. 

Hardcase is fucking him just the way he likes, the way he needs, not complacent but familiar. Similarly, Wolffe knows exactly how Hardcase likes him in bed. 

“Gonna come, gonna come on you, Cas’ika. Gonna mark you, make you mine,” he growls out. It’s possessive, so different from the easy play with the pack during the war.

“Always been yours, Wolffe... Come for me, come on my deece, c’mon Sir.” Another scratch of nails, this time they catch on his nipple. His eye rolls back and he comes in bursts through his fingers, spilling onto Hardcase’s chest. 

Hardcase keeps thrusting, his pace now frantic. Flushed and sweating, he shines. Wolffe loves the way his neck strains, ropes of muscles tight as he arches his back. The thrusts are easier now he’s come, but he’s being pushed into overstimulation, caught between pulses of  _ so-good-too-much _ and  _ sleep-now-fuzzy-tired _ .

A low “that’s it, come for me Hardcase,” is all it takes before he can feel the heat of his boyfriend coming in him, hard thrusts gradually slowing to a stutter.

The dismount is a little ungainly, legs buckle like a newborn eopie as he flops onto Hardcase’s sticky chest, enjoying the feel of fingers carding through his hair. Hardcase’s heartbeat is running at a klick a minute next to his cheek as they both breathe deep.

He soothes a hand down Hardcase’s arm, hot and sweaty, feels the solid muscles work under a layer of new fat. Sturdy, solid, present. “Good boy, there we are.”

Eventually, after what is probably only a few minutes, Hardcase rolls out from underneath him. There’s a pull of congealing come between them, and Wolffe grumbles at the sensation as he flops on his back. Hardcase pecks him on the lips when he comes back with glasses of water and a damp cloth, a blessed cool against his hot and tender hole as Hardcase cleans him up. 

A blink of zoned-out bliss later the radio is on, Hardcase wriggling back into bed and pulling the blanket over them both. An arm and leg slung over him weighs him down, gives him the pressure he needs to sleep. 

  
He rouses a little while he can, manages to climb out of his doze just enough to press a kiss to Hardcase’s forehead, to whisper a gentle  _ goodnight _ and  _ I love you _ , before he’s asleep once more.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr [here](https://oriki-miitad.tumblr.com/), come say hi!


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